Beneath the Surface
by SilverWind9
Summary: Pre SL9 - sort of Angel/Lana-y, though not necessarily romantically so. Done for a request asking for such.


**Beneath the Surface**

The cracks in her persona as the Cough-up Queen was not something she permitted others to see.

She was not one of those women who kept up a cold, hard exterior to shield the oozing weakness within; under the strong surface was still more strength, but not a variety she cared for others to be aware of. Underneath that strong surface was genuine feeling and that meant there was still a potential for her to be hurt.

There were times, despite her best efforts, when that vulnerability was exposed.

2013.

Two fugitives had escaped to the docks, fleeing into an abandoned warehouse. She had been the first one to scale the chain-link fence and had headed through the doors as everyone else went to surround the premises. She made it inside just in time to see one of the men disappear down a lane of crates to her left. The other she saw scramble down the aisle right after it.

She had pulled out her gun and was preparing to pursue at least one of them when she'd heard the quick click click of heels approach from behind. It was Lana, moving in that brisk but perfectly calm, authoritative manner that always commanded respect.

"Where did they go?"

Nodding to the two aisles, she waved at the other woman to move towards one.

"You take the second; I'll handle the first."

Lana had nodded and complied, and as she headed down her own row the giant crates cut the darker-haired woman from her sight. As focused on her task as she was, she was only dimly aware of this as she sprinted forward. Ultimately, she proved _too _focused on the pursuit: when she reached the end of the lane and was met with nothing but the warehouse wall barricading the rest of the way, she had stared stupidly at it in confusion.

It took her too long to understand. She had turned back and retraced her steps too slowly. When she finally found the gap in the crates that separated their two rows, yells had already erupted, the first gunshot ringing out in the air.

A wave of cold fear had washed through her as she scrambled through the crack between the crates. More shouting, more gunshots, a scream—male. One more booming shot that sounded closer to her, followed immediately by a pained cry. Female.

She had clawed the rest of the way through, the image she witnessed burning into her mind. A man collapsed by the exit, shot in the chest with his gun on the floor near his feet. Lana crouching on the ground, clutching her side. And, closest nearby was the other man—the one who had slipped by her, the one she should have gotten—still standing, still aiming at Lana, about to fire again. A scream from her own lips made him turn. Two shots from her Beretta made him crumple to the ground.

Rushing forward to Lana's side, a bleak horror caused her to continue to tremble even when the downed woman assured her she was alright. Despite Lana's words, she had felt an upwelling of fear and shame and anger all at once, the combination of all three shattering her composed surface. It was a mistake that should never have happened. An oversight that suited only a rookie. Not her—not the Cough-up Queen.

She had broken down then, shedding quiet tears of frustration and worry. An error on her part had nearly cost one of them their lives. No, an error on her part had nearly cost them _Lana's_ life. Lana's. She crouched there, remaining angry at herself even as the woman on the ground gritted her teeth and sat up to face her.

Why, when Lana had been the one wounded, was it the Cough-up Queen who had to be consoled? Why had that woman possessed the strength to reach out and touch her even as her other hand pressed down on the wound the bullet had grazed open? Why did she wipe off those tears?

Lana's quiet, supportive smile had eventually gotten through to her. She had dabbed at her eyes and moved to make herself useful, finally supporting the other woman properly in her arms. That expression, those comforting words managed to draw a small, relieved smile to her lips as well. It had come just in time; shouts and the clatter of footsteps signalled the approach of the other detectives. She was able to piece herself back to full composure before they were discovered; only Lana witnessed what lay beneath the surface of her mind, that day.

Yes, she had admired Lana Skye so very much, back then.


End file.
